I aint no bone yone dawg on a leash....keep the faith....I aint no wraith!!!

48

Wow, I´m sick of doubt
Live in the light of certain South
Cruel bindings
The servants have the power
Dog men and their mean women
Pulling poor blankets over our sailors
I´m sick of dour faces
Staring at me from the T.V. Tower
I want roses in my garden bower; dig?
Royal babies, rubies
Must now replace aborted
Strangers in the mud
These mutants, blood meal
for the plant that´s plowed

They are waiting to take us into the severed garden
Do you know, how pale and wanton thrillful
Comes death in a strange hour
Unannounced, unplanned for
like a scaring over-friendly guest you´ve brought to bed
Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings
Where we had shoulders, smooth as ravens claws

No more money, no more fancy dress
This other kingdom seems by far the best
Until it´s other jaw reveals incest
And loose obedience to a vegetable law

I will not go
Prefer a feast of friends
To the giant family ......Morrison

What??? You want . Why? Fear not my fellows....there is little that you will not get.....none of which you planned....most of which you didn’t. The love and the tyranny of evil men replaces only the doubt and the benevolence of those that give more than they think...hooray 4 them!

I love to be back, i’M SORRY i’M NOT sLACK....sometimes you get less than you bargained for (sorry Boet, but i luv u).....fuk’em I’ll take it! Get me at the wrong moment and u’ll feel that I snaked it, but u wanna play ball, u better learn how to fall, cause I’m sing’in only so far as u cling’in.....u fuk me 1 time u aint gonna get no shoe shine....take yr chances....i aint fraid o no lances...bye sky...good riddance.

Stanford Cricket ground never looked so good.

24

05/04/2009

Pigorilla Power!

Antigua’s lights are slowly disappearing behind us after a fun day in the sun with the water glowing a wonderful turquoise colour and crystal white sand with palm trees offering the perfect shade to hide from the relentless sun. Another day in paradise was the slogan on the T-shirts of the helpers on the beach and it couldn’t have been any more idyllic or representative of paradise....if you’re into that kind of thing. I was the tour escort and while I volunteered for the position, I was looking forward to getting back onto the ship and heading out for a quick cycle which I managed to accomplish by 3pm. The next five sea days will take their toll on my resilience, but will hopefully give me a chance to make some money as at the moment I am both travelling and working for free. Our next port is Ponta Delgada, our one stop in the Azores, before the end of this world cruise and we head back to Southampton, only to pick up a fresh batch of sun seekers and head back to the Caribbean. I’m not complaining. It’s a great part of the world to hang out and I’m looking forward to visiting St Maarten again after making it my home for a year.....twenty years ago!

The cycle was fairly uneventful and I only managed to squeeze in 30 kilometres and one album of Trance Republic banging through my headphones driving my pins on to new levels of endorphin heaven. The US Air force is alive and well in the West Indies and I cycled past a couple of their bases. One was a training base and the other was an area that had massive white dishes pointing up into the sky looking for things that I probably wouldn’t recognise.

Antigua, like the rest of the Caribbean, has a couple of areas that are well kept and beautiful. Particularly Stanford Cricket ground near the airport which has some absolutely beautifully manicured, shocking pink, bougainvilleas lining the entrance at the moment, framed with an assortment of palms and imaginatively terraced surrounding gardens. I opted against stopping for a photo opportunity due to time constraints and cycled by. Once away from that memorable area, the road side is littered with old wrecks of cars and busses rusting away and there is never a shortage of litter blowing in the wind while trying to free itself from the grass, tree, shrub or whatever was unlucky enough to catch it. It amazes me that even with a small population and beauty all around and such a reliance on tourism for income and yet they are still unable to put their rubbish in a bin...how sad. Despite the lovely areas that are idyllic, the oppressive poverty of the have nots is constantly crowding ones thoughts and I think one has to feel like one has really earned ones holiday to be able to blot those thoughts out in their entirety.

I don’t think that there were too many swimmers today that didn’t spare a thought for Mr Doe, and particularly his family. There were many that probably had had a long hard look at themselves since he popped off the planet and realised that they had a much better chance than he did of a heart attack creeping up on them out of the relative transparency of a beautiful blue sea. Despite all the thoughts that today might have been their day, it was relatively uneventful and we had a full complement of passengers when we sailed.

There is a “Pour Out” this evening at 12pm for the crew and officers. In a nut-shell, a pour-out is a party with free drink and tonight it kicks off with a show put on by the dance company. I have a 9am meeting with Mrs Edge, my blind pupil, so am probably not going to make the pour out, which is a shame as it is one of the few times to mix with the rest of the staff. It always takes a bit of an effort because I’m not particularly close to anyone so even going to it is an effort. It’s now nine o’ clock...If I get a couple of hours sleep...maybe....just maybe....I can pop my head in.

It’s an unlikely thought for the rest of life.

23

15/04/2009

Pigorilla Power!

One of the great things about going snorkelling... no matter what your age may be....is that...especially....of course....when you are on a beach like the many Curacao has to offer ....that you are going to have a jolly good time. The fish are abundant...some said that the sea was even more abundantly full of fish than the Great Barrier Reef. The water is crystal clear, and yesterday, particularly, the weather is absolutely fantabulous! It is precisely because of all of these brilliant reasons that I feel it is a good time to die....it is the last possible thing that you will be expecting when you go into that water. If someone were to tell you, with the benefit of hindsight, that 30 minutes later you would be spotted some way off by a helicopter drifting along under the surface totally oblivious to any of your lifes triumphs or tribulations, you would have a look of extreme lack of understanding across your very perplexed face. This, however, was exactly what happened to Mr Doe yesterday. He will be missed by all who knew him as a fit, spritely, friendly, well liked and respected father and husband. A champion on the quoits deck (Deck 13) and the most unlikely 78 year old to have a heart attack and drown yesterday. Mr Doe, I am sure, is laughing all the way to the grave and will, I am reservedly sure, be ecstatic with the result. Reservedly.....only because personal circumstances can often get in the way of an otherwise successful innings.

I, unlike Mr Doe, am left to fight the Caribbean sun single handed tomorrow on the tropical island of Antigua where I shall valiantly act as the tour escort to Fort James Beach and spend several hours tending to my flock of passengers that wish to soak up some rays and take in a little snorkelling. As with Mr Doe, not one of us will not be expecting to be boarding Aurora tomorrow evening.

Today was another underpaid busy day with the last test of the day being my only blind student, Mrs Edge, god bless her cotton socks. She is wonderful....and we successfully sent an email, but she has become a little despondent about her lap top and is very much of the opinion that she may have to give it away. With new resolve, I am determined to get her beyond this hopeless hurdle of realism that has taken her hook, line and sinker. I hope to cast yet another lease of life and hope. It came so naturally to her when we first met. We will prosper yet. What she is doing is not easy, and that guy who gets Mr Doe up and running and Mrs Edge seeing in no time at all, is nowhere to be found, so I guess we’re just going to have to play by the usual rules....just one life today I’m afraid.

Here’s an interesting thought for the day that I picked up as the important facts of life off Pravsworld.com. Keepin’ it Real! Check it, Môn.

Important Facts Of Life

Health is the first of life
Wealth is the next of life
Character's courage is the best of life
Respect is must in life
Turning is the test of life
God's blessing is the crest of life
Love is crucial for life
Happiness is the perfume of life
Truth is the search of life
Death is the rest of life.

We are never the same.

22

03/04/2009

Pigorilla Power!

None of my girl-friends have been part of my life for any other reason other than I adored them wholeheartedly. I have been less than fortunate by having my good judgement backed up by one or two friends....oh dear. Break that rule that puts you on the soft end of a friends woman and you often end up with then short end of the stick. These parameters are written in blood......I’ve broken those rules....I understand them, I live by them!

I was on the beach in the Caribbean today and met some gr8 people....it’s such a pleasant thing to meet people that you would love to spend more time with....even if you can’t.

I was on a sun kissed beach with some of the most splendid looking creatures in the game...there was a good crowd from the ship and all of a sudden my life was resembling a never ending story of love, dreams and possibility.....It’s a shame that it doesn’t last for long and before an hour or two has passed, it’s time to head back to the ship....better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.......if ever you want to head to the Dutch Antilles, I recommend Curacao quite diligently.

I saw the dolphins, the palm trees, the phsycadelic blue ocean, the sea-lions, the turtles, the Pina Coladas and the love of all that is wonderful and appreciated. ....Is it so small a thing?

"Some people come into our lives and leave footprints on our hearts and we are never ever the same."
-- FLAVIA WEEDN

There are no lemons in a box of chocolates.

The Forgotten Pig.

48

2009-06-10 - 2009-06-22

Pigorilla Power!

There are no winners....or losers, in this game you call life.....bring me a winner and I’ll show you an end of a winning streak with a misplaced bullet......bring me a loser and I’ll show you gratitude for that very same bullet.....show me yourself for I will bring you no joy, if the truth be known about sallow sorrow. The jest is in the festival of the ongoing mess that you bet with the triumphant gavel of the Devil we strive to bring us alive with the beat of the heat with our feet on the street.

Struggle on Pigorillians for stop we daren’t cause our love will be lost on the most treacherously vehement.

Greenland surrounds me with snow covered mounts....look in my eye....do you see no sadness that counts?

Oh me, oh my....the Poor Pigorilla....I cannot even recall what put him in such a state. All I remember is the most beautiful scenery. Icebergs were plentiful, but they would have looked more at home in a glass of malt whiskey, than in the hull of a ship. Polar bears were scarce and of penguins, I saw none. Seals were a plenty, as were huskies, probably twenty. 79 degrees north was as far as we went; any further and the ship would have got bent.

I was sorry to say farewell to friends, but the excitement of being on land again was pulsating through my body like a throbbing zud... I haven’t been disappointed. There is a vibrancy and carelessness on land that is totally removed from life on a ship. On a ship, safety is everything, while on land, living is everything. People consistently going about their lives, scratching for a foothold to push themselves up to peak over the next ledge before clambering forward in their search for more of what they are not sure that they’ve had. On and on this wheel turns. Some die, some don’t...some wish they had...some would rather they didn’t, but while it cannot last forever, us Pigorillians scratch ever on....searching, seeking, seeking, scratching, searching, seeking, scratching, hatching, and all the while this is called living! Well...how about that?

It’s hard to justify why it doesn’t work, because too much has gone into the way that it is. It’s probably harder to justify that it does not work. Let’s look at my old favourite, Religion. I’m a great believer that while religion has been the basis that leaders have been able to get us to kill each other by the thousands often, it is not the only reason they could have used to sway the ignorant masses. Hypothetically speaking, bearing in mind my atheistic roots, let’s assume that the whole world was Islamic. Would everyone still kill each other? Probably less likely than if the whole world was a Christian democracy. Buddhism would probably be the best belief for world peace, by the aggressors amongst us would soon resort to bludgeoning the poor Buddhists to death on the pretext that they were actually accruing vast hidden wealth and possessions and a new dawn of capitalism and greed would be upon us like a breath of fresh air wafting down from the icy mountains. And then it would all start again, until one day we will blow ourselves up, get hit by a meteor or simply run out of useful sperm. Hopefully the species that follows will be a whole lot more intelligent with bucket loads of fun and an eternity of life to make sure that mistakes are corrected by the same entity with no reliance on Chinese whispers passed from generation to generation with devastating inaccuracy. That story of the Virgin Mary has left my three siblings patiently waiting for divine intervention only to realise too late that the horse has not only bolted the stable, it has also already died of old age. And here I am, gratefully aware that the powers of natural selection have kept my lovers very well aware of the trials and tribulations of life as a Pigorilla and quietly slunk into the night without so much as a light to guide them as they stray and sway while the old hag begins to neigh.

But all in all, there is so much going for those that live on land; the world is your oyster, I have heard.....and indeed it is. Always be careful....it is a well known fact that it those that succeed the best and the most often are those that go into things with cautious abandon. Look for that oyster, but when you feel like it’s raining black pepper and you’re getting poured on by lemon....run, Forrest, run (only as far as is necessary, though).

Forrest Gump: “That day, for no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run. So I ran to the end of the road. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd run to the end of town. And when I got there, I thought maybe I'd just run across Greenbow County. And I figured, since I run this far, maybe I'd just run across the great state of Alabama. And that's what I did. I ran clear across Alabama. For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going. When I got to another ocean, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well just turn back, keep right on going.”

Forrest had so much not going for him and yet he just blundered forward, always seeing the bright side. His momma used to say, “Life is like a box of chocolates, Forrest. You just never know what yer gonna get.” Forrest’s momma was right. Whatever you get, think of it as chocolate and then all you need to think about is what type of chocolate it could be. There are no lemons, in a box of chocolates.

Make your own choices!

47

Thanks to all for encouragement for more from the Pig-Fella. It's a groundbreaking time in space at the moment and the higgledy piggledy thrusting of my tumultuous life has never been a better reflection of this. I'm back in London, a town in the country that gave birth to trainspotting, and while I don't have time to give you my usual trash, I would like to share an excerpt from the book Trainspotting to take you through this uneven patch on the path to divine perpetuity.

Trainspotting

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career, choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers....choose DSY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, stuffing junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself, choose your future. Choose life...But why would I want to do a thing like that?

Swimming is Not the Only Option as the Sunset is Not Applicable.

46

8/6/09

Pigorilla Power!

Stavanger was a lovely little town nestled in the mountains at the end of the Norway fjord. Picturesque and stunning, with panoramic views of the fjord, the trees and the snow-capped mountains made wonderful viewing on a crystal clear, sunny, bright, windless day. I shook off my hangover from the night before and after a brief visit to the tourist information I headed off to the selected mountain for a little exercise. I stopped off at the supermarket and aware that Norway was prohibitively expensive, was only a little surprised to pay ten pounds for two waters and a Red Bull. From there it was barely ten minutes to the chosen mountain and I was soon huffing and puffing my way up the steep path surrounded by fir trees, with only the occasional hiker to break my rhythm.

At the half-way mark (forty minutes later) I greeted a Norwegian who had been ahead of me and had stopped. “Is that as far as you are going?” I asked.

“Yes”, he said in a strong Norwegian accent.

“Why don’t you go further?” I asked.

“I am satisfied”, he said.

“How much further is it to the top?” I asked.

“You are half-way,” he said. “Continue on the path, but be careful, it becomes dangerous and steep and the rocks are wet from the melting snow, so slippery and it becomes very muddy.” “You can fall and die at any time.” He added.

“Nice talking to you,” I said while wondering why the hell I had even stopped.

I hadn’t travelled for more than five minutes when three small groups of a few people each, all from the ship, came past me saying that it was too muddy and they had turned back as it was too steep and dangerous. Looking at them, I was surprised that they had made it that far at all so I was not too concerned as I pushed on, forward and up. I soon came across a very muddy section, but after thirty or so metres it dried up and I kept going. The path was starting to wind dangerously and in places there were chains to hang onto as the rock was sheer and often wet. When the trees abated they gave way to views that were panoramic while the drop-off was steep and nasty. I never did realise where I left the path and I could see that I was not the only person that had gone the way I went, but soon I was hanging onto brush and tree branches to pull myself over rocks with what looked like a long overhanging rock in view for twenty metres which was as far as I could see before the mountain twisted out of sight. The mountain dropped off dangerously to my right and if I were to fall there, it would have been a great way to check on the availability of an afterlife. The Norwegians words were fresh in my mind and it was not the first time that I had mulled them over in my mind..... “You can fall and die at any time.”

I could see no way forward....the overhang was ominously forbidding and I would have struggled to get over it, even with ropes, let alone free-style. Being so totally on my own was also a little concerning and my sense of self preservation was kicking in. When Dolf had said that it was dangerous and steep, I didn’t realise that he meant that it was dangerous and steep. I thought he meant that he found it dangerous and steep, but I would be fine. I decided to err on the side of caution. I had climbed myself into a bit of a position and it was going to be hard enough to climb down without the added stress of trying to climb further up. After about five metres of retracing my steps I saw a way to cut across the top of a ledge rather than my original route coming up below it. No sooner was I on the ledge than I could see the path that I was supposed to be on about twenty metres across from where I was. Relief came flooding through me, but also a little foolishness at how easily I had been diverted. A few broken branches and a couple of slips while my Nike trainers clawed for grip on the steep grassy incline and I was back on the path snaking my way up the mountain. Forty minutes later I was on a large open area just in front of the snow line before the mountain headed off up towards the sky again. The ship was parked in the fjord looking the size of a canoe about a kilometre below. Time was not on my side and I took the moment in for a few quiet minutes before steeling myself for the long, jarring hike back down the mountain.

My journey was disbelieved by several people on the quay side, but the supply of photo’s put an end to that and they were so well received by the photography ladies on the tender back to the mother ship that I had to promise to burn a few for them for the “Cruise” DVD that they make for passengers to remember their cruise by.

A huge party for the “new joiners” on the ship was followed by a day in Andalsnes which I was too hung over to visit. I overheard a passenger saying that it was the Manchester of Norway which I mentioned as a joke in the officers mess during dinner, but lied saying that I had never been to Manchester so didn’t know what it was like. “It’s really beautiful,” this moron said to me. I couldn’t be bothered telling him that I had been there and it was a shit-hole and if he took his head out of his asse long enough when were in all the different ports that we go to all over the world, that he would be able to see it for himself.

Last night was another huge party in the officers’ wardroom with a theme of “Anything, but Clothes”. The photos are brilliant and the dancers made a huge effort looking really gorgeous in very original outfits. I went in a toga. From there we went to the Restaurant Rave on deck three where they were pulling out all the stops and I was shaking that toga like an epileptic all over the dance floor. One waiter fellow ran up and jumped on me with his legs around my waste. I grabbed him under the arms and threw him into the air, but with the ceiling only about seven feet tall, he was dealt a crushing blow as it came down to meet his head. Not fazed and grateful for the attention, he went staggering off into the crowd. By three thirty, I was looking like Julius just before he collapsed with multiple stab wounds and it was time to go to bed, but not without the mandatory curry in the crew mess first to help absorb all the beer.

I was told a wonderful joke by one of my students today from the apartheid era of South Africa and how the black people were discriminated against. The story goes that Arch Bishop Desmond Tutu and PW Botha, “Die Groot Krokadil”, were on a beach together and all the press were there and they had important private business to discuss, so PW suggested going in a rowing boat a little way into the bay so the press could not hear them. They were not too far out when a gust came up and PW’s hat blew about twenty metres over the crest of a swell onto the water. Being the nice guy that he is, Desmond offered to go and get it for him so stepped out of the boat and walked across the water and retrieved it. The photographers with their zoom lenses were snapping away and the front page of all the papers the following day had a picture of Desmond on them and the headline, “Desmond Tutu can’t swim!” I thought that was a lovely warm story from a rather cold time.

The grass continues to get greener under my feet and there is so much to enjoy here on the ship. If only it was not eating into the years of my life while I savoured the experience. The possibility that I could be trying to do something with my life has been eating into my enjoyment, but now that the end is so clearly in sight, my capability of enjoying it all is all the greater. I am having to use curtains at night as the days have taken full control over the environment with the sunrise and sunset times in the daily paper now marked “Not Applicable”.

If only....

45.

2009-06-04

Pigorilla Power! A Tale

I’m on angry seas somewhere between Stavanger and Southampton. I’ve just finished watching Forrest Gump for the second time. The first time was when it first came onto the circuit and while I remembered that it was a great movie, I didn’t remember the tears running down my face.

Ignorance and stupidity can be bliss, but while it can numb your senses, there are times when life throws you some curve balls, all in a row, and then things can become really sad and depressing. Somehow we pick up the pieces no matter what was the problem and we put them in a back pack and carry them along to the next part of our lives that is more likely to be happy. We relish in the happy liberating times for a while and then, out of the blue we get another big catastrophe that could put us in a bit of a hole which we mull over for a while, and if we keep going, another little good thing happens which lifts our spirits, sending us into the next happy phase, and so on, and so forth, until you’re lying on your death-bed and your dying becomes the low point of other peoples’ lives until the next good thing buoys them up. Is that really what life is..... series of good and bad moments with a few mediocre ones thrown in between before you’re heading into the ground with hardly even a moment to worry about what the fuck all of that was really even about?

I’m about to head back onto land, and I will have less time to think about everything and only time to think about some things. That should help. Knowing that I’m leaving is giving me time to reflect on what I’m doing before I do it. It is probably not a new feeling to any of you that plan ahead, but I never plan, except from one moment to the next and even that immediate planning is usually out of necessity. I’ve given myself a good month to contemplate leaving this ship. One thing I can say is that when you know that the grass you are on is soon going to be the other side of the fence, it changes colour in front of your very eyes from the dead beige colour of winter grass to the fresh shoots of spring grass. I wish I could change the way things are on the ship because they are not the way I would have made them to suite my own selfish needs. Everyone is here for different reasons. Very often I think that it may have been the allure of travel to places that you would never go to unless you were travelling on a ship. Certainly it was like that for me, but I was under the illusion that I would be earning more money than I have been. That would probably make a huge difference for me during my four weeks leave between contracts, or I could spend a little more money on board, or buy a few things when I went ashore and not have to worry about the price of a meal, or a beer. Those that earn a half decent ship salary that is tax free often get sucked into continuing their stint on the ship longer than they had planned to. If you embrace this life, appreciate the money and love your leave as well as enjoying your time on board, perhaps that is as much as anyone could ask for.

I am lucky that I don’t enjoy the job, earn much money, or embrace the life onboard, because I am outta here. I have met some wonderful people, but our interactions are stilted by the fact that we are always on the ship and there is no respite. As a result of this, it is hard to be yourself. It is hard for other people to be themselves. It also appears hard for people to not be hypocritical about their work colleagues and what they get up to, because that immediately puts them on the moral high ground which puts them in good stead about how they feel about themselves in relation to the others. Ironically, it only makes them feel better, but puts them in a bad light with their peers when they want to let off some steam or do something in a similar light themselves. As a result of this, one ends up with a “Lord of the Flies” situation where the group that should be working together ends up splitting up into factions without being able to have clearly defined boundaries because the hand that feeds you can also bite. It’s a complex environment that cannot be explained purely with an attempt to express my opinion alone. I have been very reserved and introvert on board, but there are a couple of people, one in particular, that behaves in an outgoing, gregarious manner, has a decent rank and is friendly to everyone and yet I can still see those with nothing else better to do behaving in a manner is anything but in line with the kind of warm friendliness that this sort of attitude would probably be greeted with on land.

It is probably possible for me to make a life of working at sea for a few years, but there is just too much to lose by not being on land.  At sea, there is no room for ambition unless you claw your way through the ranks through being efficient and responsible and putting in the time (years). At sea, if you are open to it, there is ample opportunity to have sex, but should you get romantically involved, you need to know that your partner is going to another ship and you are probably going to a different ship. If you are bound to be on ships for a while, this is something that you would probably end up accepting and make hay while the sun shines. I have been fortunate not to have to get involved in this, although being a man, it has been difficult. With a shortage of delectable girls on board, it is never long before your window of opportunity passes and some other horny male snaps up what caught your attention leaving you with a mixture of gratitude and remorse.

The clocks go forward tonight and after enquiring about a bicycle to rent from the Crew Club, I was informed that they are all broken, but I will see if I can hire one in Stavanger tomorrow and get a bit of fresh air while pedalling along the fjord. It’s a funny old world this, but I am already missing what I will be doing tomorrow. If only I was best friends with all my colleagues as only best friends can be and we were travelling around the world having a blast. If only.....

The Panama Canal is not far.

20. 

31/03/2009

 

Pigorilla Power!

 

The ecstasy of having sleep try and overwhelm me at 10pm in the evening was like being offered a sip of water after a long day of staggering through a dessert full of sun with a hang-over.....I grabbed it with both hands and barely had time to turn off the light as I lapsed into blissful tranquillity. You can imagine my disappointment when a few hours later, I woke up, knowing that I’d had enough sleep to not sleep again, but not enough to get through the rest of the day with no more. Not one to be outdone by the pathetic whims of a sleeping pattern (or more apt, the lack of one), I went to my ensuite and removed my latest treat from Acapulco.....some natural sleeping tablets.....I asked the lady for some unnatural ones, but she only shook her head at me disapprovingly knowing full well that I’d probably been taking some of the natural crop that they use to keep themselves awake. When I met Jessica for a drink at the square in the old town, covered in trees with dangling monkey ropes, all lush and green, she had been approached by a guy who, with a well practised finger, put it up to block his one nostril and made a gentle sniffing sound with the other and respectfully asked, “Something for the nose?”

 In any event, you can tell a town better by its sleeping pills than the quality of coke and all I can say is that I’ve had poor quality ephedrine that makes me drowsier than Acapulco’s natural sleeping pills. I’ve read several chapters of my book, tried to sleep again twice, replied to mail, and it is now 04h25 in the morning with not so much as a blink of the eye-lids to offer any optimism of a little rest on the horizon.

 The moon has been reflecting a pale glow through my port hole off a still silken sea. Only the hum of the engines and the twirling reflections of the water off the ceiling of my cabin give any indication that we are moving through a deep fathomless ocean.

 A strong  ice cold Horlicks with a dash of protein powder has numbed the craving for a big slab of chocolate or a cigarette;  which I have eluded for a couple of days based on pure remorse at having bought these useless nicotine patches.

 My favourite customer, Mrs Edge, came for her first private lesson yesterday. She insisted on showing me her pictures which were not bad at all.....for a blind person. She thought that was a little cruel and gave me a little nudge with her shoulder and a grin. As can be expected the lesson went well only because of her unbelievable way of accepting what is, and achieving what one wants by circumnavigating around what cannot be moved. She waxed lyrical about the propeller brigade still trying to squeeze money out of P&O and stirring themselves into a feeding frenzy of discontent, while all around them, the holiday they paid for and were receiving was disappearing in front of their very eyes, while a lady with the most useless eyes you ever did see, was marvelling at the sun reflecting off the water.

All in all, seven people came to my Photo Basics Class and my Computers for the Terrified Class and coupled with 90minutes of private lesson; it was an acceptable day financially and will hopefully be eclipsed by today’s financial report which should be slightly better. If this keeps up, I have no doubt that I will not be fired and may be able to tip my cabin steward slightly better than the ten pounds that I have given him for the month. He should receive a pound a day, but since that is about 10% of what I am earning and he gets a salary as well, I have decided to reduce his tips by 60% rather than fire him altogether. He’s very sweet, but totally useless, apart from changing bedding and towels, which he excels at.

 The Panama Canal is not far off and I have taken the day off tomorrow so that I can appreciate it, followed by a couple of days in the Caribbean to recuperate before the long slog back to Southampton where we will receive a whole new bunch of passengers and with them a new lease on life.

A Duck-Billed Platypus is not a Duck!

 

19. 

30/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

The water is like glass today and to add to the magic, a small family of Dolphins were waving flippers at me while I ate breakfast. At first I thought it was just another flashback from my clubbing days, but then another fin and the wave of a tail confirmed that my strawberry yoghurt, Blackberries, Blueberries and grape-fruit were not going to be my only highlight of the morning.

Another splendid part of the morning was the drought being broken on my classes. I had three spritely wannabe students turn up for my “Computers for the Terrified” class. There are three classes to the course and it went as smoothly as soft butter spreading on a toasted croissant. What a shame there were only three of them, but I’ll at least keep my job if I keep that up. It’s good to get my sense of value back...even if the price tag is looking somewhat like I’m part of a closing down sale.

I have decided that smoking is a dangerous way to put nicotine into my system when there are so many other methods available. I prefer chewing gum, because I like the idea of a rush into my system rather than a pad that slowly feeds you nicotine. After three pharmacies in Acapulco and a very tired jaw from trying to imitate chewing like a cow chewing grass followed by a finger drawn across my throat and then two fingers put to my lips to show that I was trying to stop smoking and needed nicotine chewing gum, I finally found one that produced a box of Nicorettes. My miming days had never felt so close and I was grateful I hadn’t lost my touch. You can imagine when the next time that I was craving a cigarette on Aurora, I whipped out my box to expose the seven patches within! Not to mention the price, it is an otherwise unacceptable way to take nicotine. I am busy trying to sell them to some of the staff on board that prefers not to smoke because it hurts their throat and makes them cough. If they take the patches for long enough the coughing and spluttering of smoking will seem like a small price due to the cheaper method of getting the nicotine into your system that smoking offers.

Mrs Edge, the blind lady that I am teaching to use a lap top has booked her first private lesson for 2pm today so that should be interesting, despite being more or less futile. I don’t have the heart to tell her so will do my absolute best to bring the lap-top to life.

Increasingly, I am getting people wishing me well and telling me how much that they are enjoying “The Pig”.....well, had you read the first edition of “Pigorilla Power!”, you would know that it is not a PIG, it is a Pigorilla, and the Pigorilla prides itself on being more like a Gorilla that looks like a Pig, rather than just a Pig, or a Gorilla looking Pig so thanks for the kind words, but let’s try and remember that we are talking about an entirely separate species, very similar to a Duck-Billed Platypus....It’s not a duck!

Always go to other peoples funerals.

18. 

29/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

There is a big part of me that wants to believe that Acapulco hasn’t seen the best days of its life, but what I want to believe is very rarely what I can believe. I’m sure it was a lovely place in the 50’s. The night life is probably still what it was, but while there appears to be the odd little opulent bubble of cosmopolitan flair, many of the half finished, never to be finished buildings remind me of what happens to Africa when the invaders pull out. A pleasant ride on my bicycle yielded a fine view of the bay and after admiring the most haggard looking pelicans being fed on the beach by the fishermen, I went to a bar in a lovely old square in the old town and had a couple of beers with a couple of mates off the ship. I then cycled to a bottle store to buy some Agave tequila...I wanted the one with the worm in it, but it was going at a premium so I bought two litres of the other stuff for the same price. It has been quite some time since my days when we used to smoke the worm and while I know the times were there, every time my memory tries to scrape some knowledge off the surface of my grey matter, all it comes up with is a dazed and confused look. Before I start my book, I will round up the culprits who contributed to my look and will put down what they have to say in my book.

I tried out the Tequila last night and it gave me a wonderful content feeling without even denting the bottle so I look forward to wonderful times before the two litres are finished. We had a torrid time during our drills this morning as the dudes that came on board yesterday to start doing our audit over the next few days made us do a full evacuation drill to check all the lifeboats were working and that everyone knew what to do in the case of an emergency. By the time the drills had finished at 11h30, I was a little sleepy and put my head down in my cabin for one and a half hours. Getting up to know that I was going cycling in the oppressive heat was not easy until I thought of all my friends (most, anyway) with proper jobs, at which time I sprang out of bed, wolfed down a couple of fat-burners, in case the feeling didn’t last, prepared my bike and hit the road. Thirty kilometres later I was in the middle of Mexico, endorphins flowing freely through my body, and not a care in the world.

Back on the ship, I have got everything so together that it doesn’t even feel like it is me, but being me is the last thing I’m going to worry about if I’m feeling good, and I just cannot help but feel that this all has so much to do with all the carbohydrates I’m eating...as long as I keep cycling, they shouldn’t affect me too adversely. I haven’t made one pound in a week and I’m sure that it doesn’t matter...I’ve taken a lot more than carbohydrates during my life to get rid of the feeling that situation can nurture and all to no avail. Without a doubt, the best way to feel better is through your stomach.

I have a couple of sea days coming up and then we are all looking forward to a day heading through the locks of the Panama Canal. Hopefully the sea days will not bring me down too hard and the buoyant contentment will continue through this division between the first half and the latter part of my life (all things being equal and the unusual assumption that I may live a full life).

A spot of advice from the good Yogi Barra regarding death, “Always go to other peoples funerals-

Otherwise they won’t come to yours”.

Proudly Snuffle for Roots and hold your Pigorillian Heads up High.

17.

http://pigorilla.blogspot.com

28/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

 

It’s small pleasure that none of the murderers that killed Julius Caesar died a natural death! One of his famous policies was public displays of clemency saying in a letter once, “Let this be a new way of gaining victory; let us secure ourselves through mercy and magnanimity!” It appears that he did get a little big for his boots, but for him to die for that reason alone seems a little over the top.

Back to the real world, if it is at all possible to believe the world I’m in is at all real........but you will be pleased to know that a recent study of hermit crabs looks like it has irrefutably discovered that crabs and indeed, all crustaceans as a result, do feel pain. Not only do they feel it, but they can also remember it! I was pleasantly pleased about this study as being a Cancerian by birth; it is close to my heart. In my ignorance, I imagined a team of scientists following Hermit Crabs around waiting for one to stub its toe and measuring the grimace on its face....oh, no....you might be shocked to hear that that is not what happens at all! What they do is they wait for a crab to find a perfectly great shell as a home, and then they attach 220 volts to the shell and see how quickly the crab leaves the shell. Now, I am not a scientist, but if you ask me to put money down on whether a hermit crab will leave its shell after giving it a big shock through its shell, or not........my moneys on the crab scuttling outta there as fast as its little legs can carry it. Interestingly, some would only leave, once a suitable home was presented as an option which does point towards them retaining memory of shock therapy. The only other news from the scientists for which we await is a conclusive report on the existence of Karma for all the people around the world who are merrily boiling live crayfish and lobsters before eating them, who unbeknowingly to themselves are probably turning up the heat in their own lives somewhat more than may be comfortable.

A warm and humid day was greeted with an impatience for it to be finished with having had little sleep due to a strong bout of insomnia. My classes were poorly attended despite the fact that they were free and my day was saved only by the three who attended my eBay class and particularly a little old lady who can literally struggle to tell light from dark and despite the obvious disadvantage she would have working a laptop, having barely used one before, insisted on buying one from me. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was having none of it and gallantly rushed off down the passage bumping off the walls and knocking over furniture to fetch the digital camera she had just bought. She knew where her room was, because it was one hundred and twenty paces down the passage after the door from the atrium on the left (I asked). On trying to show her how you turn it on I was troubled with visions of her trying to take pictures with the laptop and then trying to download them to the camera!  Just in case any of you Pigorillians out there feel that you have problems.....this lady is real.....as are the hermit crabs who keep getting their homes shocked......bring me your problems....no solution that I will give you to your problems will seem like a tenth of this persons reality before she even gets problems.....I often feel like throwing  my lap tops out the window at the moment......what on earth am I going to do when I can’t see them!?!?

Keep snuffling for roots and enjoy the sun....tomorrow I will be cycling along the bay in Acapulco full of tequila holding the Pigorillian flag aloft for all Mexicans to appreciate.

The Need for Speed.

16.

27/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

I’d like to say thank you to all my fellow Pigorillians that have sent me warm greetings and gratitude for my daily update and also encouragement that they think they have finally seen something that I can do half decently. Many think I should consider writing a book. More often than not, those that have been part of the journey which include horrific accidents, death, debauchery, excess, hedonism, gunfire, love, wild sex in public places, police and a genuine effort to excel with absolutely no direction in which to head, think I should consider a book about my life. Indeed, it appears to have all the markings of a great novel. It should make a good story and while it’s not a story that is planning on culminating in anything particular, it would be barely believable and largely considered to be fictitious, but for me it would just be “A life”. Before you all rush out to the book shops to see if it’s there, give me a few moments to get my head around the brevity necessary to portray everything concisely and to get into context the gravity of a lot of the situations portraying the tragedy and my compassion for the friends and people that have become casualties of life along the way. In any event....it is good to know that I am not just a blithering idiot....muttering into cyberspace, waiting for the delivery of my new rocket ship to get me out  when all I have to look forward to is the men in white coats coming to slip on my custom designed straitjacket.

I’d like to deliver a beaming blessing of wonderful wishes to my very good and one of my oldest friends, Nicholas Slack. Not only does he have half his stomach ripped out by surgery to fight pancreatic cancer, but then it spreads to his lungs and yet he still goes to run in the 100m race at father’s day at his sons school and comes second! “What the.....Goony Goo Goo!” to steal one of Slacks terms plagiarised from Eddy Murphy describing a couple of “Flat Feet”. Slack...it’s not the longest race I’ve seen so far....but boy, you can sure run it, my friend. You have my eternal love and constant thoughts and act as a magnificent balance for me when I am strong enough to fight for the need to work out the point of it all. One of my hardest things to cope with here is that I am not there to see you. I miss our chats around the open fire at the farm and the racing across the Hartebeesport dam wall. Super-Bike against Super-Car is never normally a race in a straight line from stationary, but you took it like a good sport and consistently kept changing your cars to shave more time off the clock, while always accepting defeat with a smile. It took a lot of fun to get me over the feelings that dam instilled in me every time I saw it....not to mention the memories, like strobe lights flashing in my head....blood, bone, flapping skin, screams, tears, ambulance lights, severed lungs, propellers.....they’re all still there....just not so vivid. Thanks for that!

 As for the other fathers in the race, assuming, of course, that there were more than two to start with......don’t worry.......natural selection will take care of them. If ever we’ve got a Sabre-Toothed Tiger after us, we’re gonna need as many dads like them as we can find.

It is a brilliant day outside as I monitor the calm sea swishing past my port-hole at twenty knots. The intensity of my splitting head-ache has not allowed me to venture outside, nor for that matter, eat, but I have managed a glass of lime juice and with my classes finished and only an hour of paperwork to get through, I am going to continue to lie on my bed, read my brilliant Roman escapism novel, The Gods of War, and perhaps have a little rest..........

 

 

The Cold Reality of the Pavement.

15.

26/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

The problem with writing about a life with any kind of graphic detail and emotion is not unlike that of an actor in a movie where, very often, the only way to play the part to the point of excellence, is that one has to not only act that person, but be that person. As a result of that, particularly when it is your own life, it means reliving it. While that is something that sounds like it may make an exhilarating roller-coaster of a story after half a bottle of vodka, the following day (as my friend Ellery would put it), it is time to face the cold reality of the pavement.....and that is something I am not ready for.....

Life on the ship continues unabated with my “Which Camcorder?” class yielding the sale of one Samsung lap-top. Hopefully my “Which Lap-top?” class this afternoon will yield the sale of a camcorder.

Allison, the tours presenter had her birthday last night and everyone poured themselves into the officers wardroom and ripped the living ring out of it....well that’s how it looked from my point of view. In an effort to suck the helium out of the birthday balloons they kept exploding in my face so I gave up and tackled several more vodkas instead.

The clocks just went an hour forward which means an hour’s less rest for me before my next class. Wherever you are and whatever the time, keep your feet on the ground and reach for the stars, and if you’re not happy with that, meet me in Acapulco the day after tomorrow.

Use a seal to close the deal.

14

25/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

If it didn’t feel so comfortable, the obvious adjective to use for entering the harbour at San Francisco would probably be eerie, although I appreciate that we weren’t blessed with the fog that takes over their summers.

I woke up early after a gratefully nine hours of drug induced solid, comatose, sleep.....the kind of sleep where you spring out of bed and challenge a platoon of Orks (those mythical beasts from the underworld in Lord of the Rings) to a fight to the death....and that’s just for fun to stretch your muscles for the invigorating day ahead!

I slept in my shirt of the night before and thought nothing of not changing it while I slipped on some jeans and a coat for the now 12 degrees Celsius spring weather. I took the lift to the twelfth deck and saw that despite the time being only 06h30, there were others that had managed to rise before me, but were not looking quite as bushy-tailed as I.

We had just passed under the famous Golden Gate Bridge and were nearly at Alcatraz as we silently cut through the water towards Pier 35 where we were to berth. The sun was just threatening to rise from behind the Bay Bridge and with the city and the Sea-Lions on our starboard side, Alcatraz to port and the stillness of dawn upon us, the atmosphere was truly electrifying and I knew that another great day was upon me.

The Sea-Lions were extremely vocal in welcoming us to San Francisco and kept up their playful barking all day from their platforms at Pier 39. I could have taken photos of them all day, but despite not having my friend Nancy come to visit me, there wasn’t a moment to lose and lots to do.

My darling friend Nancy was flying down to see me from Seattle and that was such a lovely thought to have running through my head as I snuggled my pillow till the tranquilisers took over and then my first thought in the morning as I imagined us eating breakfast with the seals on Pier 39. She didn’t answer her phone for the third time in 24 hours, but one gets used to patterns in people and Nancy not answering her phone is one of hers. A mail saying that she had missed her first flight was disappointingly predictable, but the next one to say that a volcano was spewing ash all over an airport in Alaska and that she now had to fly to LA to save the world rather than balance balls on her nose with the seals was not like her at all. I have begrudgingly accepted that she probably won’t get the opportunity of using a volcano erupting as an excuse in this lifetime again so have given her the benefit of the doubt, even if based on originality alone.

While I have taken several photos of SanFran, it is a shame that photos don’t capture the “feel “of a place. There is an atmosphere in San Francisco that rivals any of the nicest places I have been to and if you throw in the beautiful cycle paths and the consideration with which cyclists are embraced, SanFran is the place!

I did about 38 km from the ship past Fisherman’s Wharf, took a photo on the pier at Golden Gate yacht club then proceeded over Golden Gate Bridge. I appreciate that once you have decided to commit suicide, that you are not too concerned with the view, but from the middle of Golden Gate Bridge, it seems like the perfect place to do it....spectacularly beautiful and unnervingly safe.....jumping seemed like the only option for a moment or two....the imp of my perverse in full swing.........and then  the several kilometres to still cycle  pulled me back from the thought and I travelled on my merry way.

A  downhill, with a gradient that can only be appreciated while going down it, to Sausolito put me on a permanent vigil for a way back to the ship without having to go back the same way. Sausolito was lovely and after having stopped at a bicycle shop to see if they could repair one of my cleats, I walked out with a cap and a bandana instead. They did, however, let me use their phone to call my friend Jonathan Buys. I can safely say that I hadn’t seen him for at least twenty years from when we were in the army together and was looking forward to seeing him again. It was a shame when my call went straight through to voice mail and I left the appropriately unhappy message.

I thanked the shop owner for his trouble and gratefully breathed a sigh of relief that my second card worked after the first one had obviously had enough of paying out and never receiving and was happily bounced back to me by the owner.

I had received reliable directions to my next stop, “Tiburon” which consisted of no more than to follow the road along the bays edge....it’s hard to explain the feeling of riding along with the water next to you and Sausolito restaurants and bars flashing by snatched straight off the Riviera on the Mediterranean with the wind blowing through your hair and the only responsibility being that you drink enough liquid. All this combined with the green hills surrounding you covered by stunning houses and their breathtaking views makes for the ultimate question.....where’s mine?

Not there, yet, I’m afraid.....working out how many hundreds of years I would need to do this job to afford a place on those slopes is not part of my actuarial quiver of knowledge at this point, but one day, when I grow up, I am bound to apply myself and all that I need will be mine. The amazing thing is that the less I have, the less I find that I need, although I do find myself wanting more. What I am busy doing is aligning myself more to what I have as opposed to what I want and as a result I am reaching a point where everything I need, I have. I am relying on common sense a little in that I am hoping that my needs do not decide that clothes are expendable while I still have food in my stomach....efficiency can be a ruthless quality!

I had barely changed into 13^th gear (I only use the last 6) after leaving my favourite Sausolito bicycle shop when Tony (the owner of the shop) came running down the road behind me screaming my name. I was just considering changing up a gear and throwing a few extra kilojoules at the problem (thinking that perhaps my second and last card had bounced as well) when he said I had a phone-call. I was, like, yeah, right, Buddy. Despite my belief of the unlikelihood of there being a God available to us, I was fast having to relinquish that fact as I was totally sure that God would have been the only person that would have known that I was gonna be at Sausolito Bicycle shop in San Francisco at 11h30am on 24 March 2009 (earth year). Anyway, I turned around to accept the call and was surprised to hear that God was sounding very much like my friend Jonathan, albeit with an American twang. Thank goodness for the little miracles in life.

Tiburon and the route there is another place that if one says too much, one expects too much, but boy, is it beautiful! I have never thought of having children.....mainly through the incapacity of being able to look after them, but also through the responsibility of not being able to feel safe about leaving them or their mother anywhere where I wasn’t there to protect them with my Thirty Eight Special blazing away and then switching across to the 9”short to finish the naughty rascals off. Perhaps a bit of an overkill of an explanation, but if ever there was a place where I felt I could give up my weapons of mandatory destruction, Tiburon and the surrounding area is a little place on earth with a splendid city close by that I could easily make home with a couple of little brats and a Fairy Princess to boot. (I think that’s an expression. Hopefully the linguists out there will back me up. For the record, I am not planning on kicking the Fairy Princess).

I took the ferry back from Tiburon after befriending Lufthansa Air Stewardess (also on a bicycle)....we chatted pleasantly during the wait for the ferry and were sitting soaking up the golden sunlight on the top deck when two passengers from Aurora (my ship) sat next to us and chatted pleasantly away mistakenly assuming we were a couple and even after explaining that we weren’t and that I was on the ship with them and Heidi worked in the air, it was impossible to get it through to them that we had just met. And indeed, it was a remarkable friendship and a delightful time that we had joking and chatting till there was nothing else to say, but good-bye.

It’s exactly that kind of encounter (as with meeting Nancy on my first contract on Oriana) that helps you realise that you can still relate to real people who have your instant respect and gratitude for giving you a little piece of your sanity back and reaffirming that you are just part of a surreal world on board, that can, and does, lose its grip on reality for a while from time to time. Little things that are just so extremely funny except when they are actually happening include a comment by the PSM (Passenger Services Manager) to the back office manager just a few days ago.....Shelley (the back-office manager from South Africa) is busy telling me something.....this Knuckle-Head walks in the room.....hears her talking.......I’m the only other person in the room.....and he asks her who she is talking to? What the f*?k! Who does he think she’s taking to? Can’t he see me? A comment like that, coupled with the fact that getting him to greet me back whenever I greet him, is as hard to swallow as trying to turn parrots teeth into diamonds.

 To not greet is to ignore, but to question who someone is talking to when you are the only other living entity present is absolutely fucking outrageous! If he didn’t outrank me, I’d probably put him into a head-lock and run him through the side of the ship.

Meeting Jonathan at the San Francisco ferry terminal was a brilliant experience and I’m just sorry that I didn’t have a week or more to hang out with him, but I had to settle for a couple of beers which he bought so I was grateful to be able to put another weeks wages away for a rainy day!

Twenty years is a long time, but talking to Jonathan for a while  brought made me feel that it couldn’t have been more than three, and besides, I don’t feel old enough for it to have been twenty years, so three is my story and I’m sticking to it. Thank you to Facebook and Lisa Nel otherwise Jonathan would never have known where, how, or what to use to get hold of me. There is just something about seeing a familiar face in a port that absolutely and completely changes everything forever. The “butterfly effect” is alive and well in San Francisco.

Pier 39 was already lucky to see me as the dead-line for crew to be back on-board edged passed the five minute mark.....I quickly snatched a surprise that I’d noticed earlier for my little sister, was 25 cents short for the clam chowder that the Philipino cashier let me get away with at the hot dog stand and then pumped my little pins as my bicycle sped me along to get to the ship, just in time to receive a pager message to ask why I had not yet boarded.

Welcome to Sanfrancisco.

13. 

23/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

One of the ways that one can tell that San Francisco is a great city is from looking at the bow of the ship and marvelling at the flocks of shimmering flying fish dancing above the bow wave before ploughing into the water for a breath before shooting out to continue their merry dance, like some playful chimpanzees with a box full of tambourines. The fish seem to know when we are off to a port that every one anticipates with impatience. Luckily, unlike those before us, we don’t have to be too concerned about receiving a poison barbed arrow into our chests and have more the fear of the shops merchandising to rob us of our hard-earned monkey-nuts.

Another way of gauging a city is by seeing how far people will travel to see you in it. While desperately trying to flatter myself with the fact that Nancy is flying from Seattle to see me, my self importance does not extend far enough to accept the reality and as such have granted her some shopping time which will hopefully include trading in my old life at the Living Shop in Reincarnation Street.

Our first port of call will be very close to where the ship docks, Pier 39 it’s called, and is one of the best places to have breakfast. It will be absolutely wonderful to see Nancy so I am not too fussed about the breakfast, as long as I am eating it with her. I was rather hoping to get her on the ship, but what with all the security, I might as well have given them a picture of her wearing a burka with a visible belt full of explosives....what kind of a planet have we become? I would far rather be fending off pterodactyls with a sharp stick than an army of hidden suits that hide behind the veil of doing what they consider is the correct decision for everyone.

I read recently about those people that adapt to the way the world is being far more suited to it than those that try and adapt the world to suite them. However, it was noted that the latter group is where the world would be looking to for the changes it must undertake. I’m not sure of the changes that I’ll get in a position to consider, revise and complete, but I will go down kicking and screaming when my time is up, if I’m left with the same dysfunctional mess that I see now.

Having just finished a class with a fantastic human being who has truly embraced and lived life, there appears to be a bright side to life that beams into one’s eyes in a far more bright and compassionate way than the familiar, single, bright, train light tunnelling towards me. He is having lunch in San Fran with a friend’s daughter tomorrow who decorates houses that need to be sold so that they are easier to sell.....I explained that I knew someone who did something similar in South Africa.....wouldn’t it be nice if something positive came out of the last business I had (1) that I ended up giving away due to yet another failure of my ability to tell a serpent from a gecko.

The day here continues to radiate its brightness, but we are certainly heading into US winter and the brown, cracked, scaly crocodiles usually worshipping the pool are tucked away indoors. Interestingly, people are still concerning themselves with the compensation that P&O is paying for having missed a few ports and that great British past-time is now coming to the front in its usual form - The Petition. All the embittered passengers are demanding another cruise. By the time they’ve ruined this cruise for themselves they’re gonna need another one!

 I was doing residential corporate interiors in South Africa and ended up doing a deal when I returned to the UK with someone who appears to have totally forgot ever having met me, pocketed the cash from the first few deals and is now persona non grata with the main client aborting any chance of much more available additional business with them and embarrassing me in the process.

The Force is with us.

12. 

23/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

One more sea day till San Francisco is a fantastic feeling to have. There is only so much one can do at sea and while I have very few constrictions and constraints, there is always the ever present passenger, very much like Big Brother in Orwell’s 1984. The analogy is not entirely correct, but they are always there and always watching. Perhaps it’s just me and my obsequious nature....always making an effort, always being considerate and attentive.....right up until the top of my skull blows off and a potent portion of molten lava sprays all over like an elephant at the water-hole spraying trunk-loads of muddy water on itself  on a hot African day. In any event, the days are not easy and made even more difficult by the absence of punters at my classes. There are ways of getting more, but soon the Worldie will be over and I’ll be back to straight forward cruising where my introductory seminars pull the punters in like bear to a honey-pot. At that point I’ll be happy because I am making enough money to buy the odd beverage, my employers are happy because they know I am working, and time flies by so that I can race into the next leg of my life with the kind of enthusiasm that one can only find in people that don’t consider too much too often.

There is a cheese and wine party in the crew bar this evening, and while I am welcome, it is difficult to forge relationships here with people that I wouldn’t ordinarily speak to so am not bothering. The downside is loneliness, but I have little to say to most of the people and wouldn’t know what to say, even if I thought that I should say something. As a result, I get through things as you do, but look forward to the turn-a-round days when, not only new passengers, but also new crew come on board and perhaps I could find something like a friend that would make life a whole lot more bearable on-board.

The big advantage, of course, is the port days, which always include a long cycle in a different country and as we get back to regular cruising, there are more and more of them.

I trust that all is OK on the outside world....I no longer watch television and am immersing myself in the ships library like a baby to its mothers bosom.

Keep the Faith, and may the Force be with you!

Sleep with Alprazolam – Live with Defiance.

11. 

22/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

Out of the deep blue sea, another day has dawned and evaporated in front of my very eyes leaving another 24 hours having been removed from my life....or was it a bonus day? One that I wasn’t going to get, but was given anyway because no-one else wanted it....whatever it was, it’s gone, and all I have to show for it is a couple of hours of colour on my skin.

Another book (Rigged by Ben Mezrich) is finished, having left me with the feeling that I should have spent the last 10 years in Dubai trading oil. A brilliant, inspiring, book if you feel like you need any more literary genius than your daily dose of Pigorilla Power! Hard to believe, but just as I like to add the odd protein shake to my diet, so others also require a little more than they get. It goes for most things and most people. We are all unique...just like everybody else.

Here I am faithfully waiting for my second last Alprazolam (a magnificent tranquiliser) to kick in while crunching a few NikNaks (a cheese flavoured South African potato crisp) that I found in Auckland.

One person came to my morning class...no-one bothered for the afternoon one, and this evening, I am shunning the rest of the world, apart from your good selves, as if they were stricken with the dreaded pox.

A friend who was ready to die a few days ago with a lump under her arm and has now been given the all clear by the ship’s doctor, so that’s good. I have another book...”The Gods of War”.....about mayhem in the Roman times....probably just what I need.

Keep your chins up cause this little Pigorilla feels like he’s off to the market.....and I don’t mean for shopping. Having fun is not easy...it’s hard work and you need the right ingredients....all of them are in horribly short supply or just not available at all.....what to do....

 

 

Tie your own tie.

10. 

22/03/2009

Pigorilla Power!

I’ve never thought of tying my own bow-tie, because the clip on ones are so common and easy....perhaps that alone is reason to do one’s own, but after my father said that a girl would never take a man seriously who didn’t tie his own bow-tie, I begged to differ. Having asked several passengers to help me with one that I bought that needed tying, none could help....in fact; there was one who said with a totally dead-pan face that it was a “physical impossibility”. I told my father that no-one bothered with that anymore and even mentioned that there was one guy that had tied his own, but all the girls had laughed at him. I was joking, of course, in that instance, but it did remind me of when my father told me that girls would never look at a guy that didn’t have shiny shoes......guess what the 14yr old baby Pigorilla was doing for three hours before a party at a neighbourhood friends house (Rolf Simms was his name)....you guessed it....polishing his shoes. Well everyone had a good old chuckle at my expense that evening and there wasn’t a girl to be seen anywhere near my shoes.

In any event, tonight I tied my first bow-tie, and boy did I feel good! I didn’t see any girls taking me seriously, or anyone that even noticed that I’d nearly strangled myself several times this evening, but I guess that is just the way the cookie crumbles. I’m only 41 years old now....the girls have got loads of time to take me seriously....until I’m too old to be taken seriously. Given my very methodically constructed, artistically self-manufactured, ridiculously bleak circumstances, hopefully there is still time.

Today was another day of badly attended workshops, but a welcome one hour break next to the pool in the sun with a very pleasant Kiwi Photog (the affectionate term for the photographers on board). No relation to the elusive Pigorilla we hear so much of these days on the high seas. After the sun, I rushed back to a Photography Basics class (nothing to do with the Photog). In fact, I was about to cancel the class, and one willing lady turned up. After that I busied myself with my schedule for the final leg of “The Worldie”, from SanFran to Southampton via Antigua, Panama Canal and Mexico with Acapulco thrown in for good measure. I also fielded an email reprimanding me for my attitude. I’m in the middle of the ocean and someone in London has a problem with my attitude...it must be some attitude to travel that far....and what’s more, they’re probably right.

I couldn’t wish for a better family. A father who gives shocking tips on how to pull women, but saves face by pulling quite good ones himself, a step-mother who is fantastic, but a little slow in executing plans which is why I’ve been to Majorca thrice as that is where she was moving the family home, but has yet to leave Durban herself. I have three wonderful sisters, Belinda who is always keen to help as long as her diet of autographs from nearly famous people and hot news on the Royal Family is up to date, with the odd dolphin thrown in. Then there is Irene who has insisted on being called Tish her whole life and in the blink of an eye-lid has reverted back to her original name as it is totally cool to be called Irene in Milan. Sandy is the most sensible and as such is the most likely to be able to provide the family with a roof over their heads when decades of financial mismanagement from the whole family (albeit from the top down) explodes into a catastrophic genetic failure that will make the Big Bang look like something that Einstein sneezed into his moustache.

Despite my gratitude for being part of my great family, I cannot help but feel......and this is a consistent feeling......that someone is going to come to me out of the blue one day.....initially it was just going to be someone that was just looking a little dishevelled, but I now imagine him to be a grown man (looking quite important and a big decision maker)blubbering , with tears running down his face, pleading....no begging for forgiveness for the terrible error in which he accepts full responsibility for having given me the wrong life and willing to do anything within his power (and on my good days, that can include just about anything, even keeping all of you good Pigorillians in the picture) to make the matter right as long as I promise to say nothing to his boss, who I am, so it turns out,  very good friends with, in a close, relative, kind of a way.

Anyway, before you all feel that I’m gonna wave my wand and fix your lives up, I guess I owe it to you to let you know that I don’t even wake up and smell the coffee.....that’s the sad part of the story....I am awake already and that takes the possibility of it all being one long nightmare out of the question.....unless it’s one of those dreams where you think you are awake and you’re not.....you’re still asleep......whatever makes the big things happen in your life if it’s not yourself, ask them that it can be that option......if we can get that right through our combined collective thought, it’ll make the story of the several thousand Catholics watching the sun crash to the earth in Fatima in Portugal (during a mass) look like something out of Alice in Wonderland with the good I will do for the universe with the new life bestowed upon me.

Assuming we fail....it’s not a lack of faith....think of it as a prenuptial agreement when you get married....it’s just limiting your downside (depending on which side of it you fall, of course). Should we fail, the worst that can possibly happen is that you get (at most) ninety years of this mediocrity; And who knows....if our atoms do get redistributed (as most of the educated ones believe) and natural selection and the green movement continue to exert their will on earth and beyond....we could get the chance to come back as part of something that really matters.

In the meantime....don’t give up.....whatever you do....try and have and make as much fun with your lives as possible, cause if I am right and you get a chance to look back on your life....that is what will count! 

P.s Having fun includes doing what is right. That includes, but is not limited to:-

·         Helping poor people (never forgetting that I am one of them)

·         Don’t have fun at the expense of your children

·         Take nothing with you, but great memories when you leave

·         Leave happy....in the knowledge that you are better off than those you leave behind

·         Don’t regret not having worked on a ship....it’s shit

·         Think about those that have gone before you (with jealousy)

·         Know that what we know is not what we will know, just as what we now know is now different to what we knew. Know that and smile ;*)

·         And so on and so forth